Hiraeth Novel Novels & Stories

Kira tried to go back to sleep but failed miserably, so she dragged herself out of the bed, wearing her blanket like a cape and open the slide door to sit on their balcony, enjoying the fresh air on the cold autumn morning. Reena woke up shortly after, she complains about how cold it was when she came out of her room joining and cover herself with Kira's blanket. She had ask her what's her plan for today and she shrugged, Kira wasn't sure but she knew she was beyond tired because of all the chores she did yesterday.

“It feels so reassuring to know that I have someone I can talk to in my down moments. I'll keep this at the back of my mind.” “Alright, I'll have to head back in now. Let's continue tomorrow.” “Thank you so much. Take care.” Malakai leaves but Hector still stands at that spot pondering over how much the kids look like him. “What really happened when Hiraeth was banished? Is he missing out on something? Is there more to the story than he knows?”

Hira Harlow's life is destroyed when her ex-boyfriend leaks a deepfake video that turns her into the center of a public scandal. Betrayed by her best friend, abandoned by her teammates, and suspended by hockey captain Alaric Jeremiah, she leaves everything behind for a fresh start in Los Angeles. Instead, she finds Alaric waiting in her new home, now her future stepbrother. Determined to reclaim her place on the ice, Hira refuses to let the past define her. But the closer she gets to Alaric, the harder it becomes to ignore the truth behind his actions or the dangerous pull between them. With an obsessive ex, a jealous fiancée, and secrets that threaten to destroy them both

CASSANDRA The pulsing between my thighs just won’t go away. It’s been there since my lesson yesterday with Rhett, along with a tingling sensation like I’ve been transformed into a bubbling can of lemon seltzer. I press my legs together as I lounge on the green velvet chaise in my room. I’m reading a book Clarisse brought me from the outside world. It’s a romance novel entitledBuilt from Stoneabout a girl who goes hiking and gets caught in a storm, only to be rescued by a rough mountain man who takes her home to his cabin where…thingshappen.

(Severus POV.) ~Crimson Blood Pack~ This night, I would save Hirre from danger. Because it's the only thing I knew for now. I brought her to the sacred ground where the mating would happen under the full moon. Hirre was lying unconsciously on the oath stone table, wearing a huge black cloak. She was so gorgeous even her skin was pale and seemed lifeless. She was already two days laying on the bed without consciousness. Fortunately, she was still breathing and it was a good sign that she was still alive

“The Rift didn’t just remember peace. It reminded me of the possibility.” They reached a cliff overlooking the valley. Below, where the burned plains of the northern reach had once stretched for miles, now lay something else entirely: cities made of glass and stone coexisted with wild forests and broken rivers that ran in loops, vanishing into themselves. Whole fragments of time overlapped, she could see half-frozen lightning striking in the distance while rain fell upward in lazy spirals. Lira exhaled shakily. “This isn’t real.” “It’s more than real,” Nora said. “The Rift merged what was with what could have been.”

The familiar sense of dread that accompanied her every move was almost palpable. Lyra wandered through the twisted streets of Nyxterra, following the elusive traces of Elias. She navigated through eerie, desolate neighborhoods where the buildings were little more than skeletal remains, their darkened windows staring out like hollow eyes. The atmosphere was charged with a sense of melancholy as if the very essence of Nyxterra was steeped in sorrow and regret.

She took this time to skim through all the pages between the first passage regarding the rhododendron bushes and the bone-chilling page 47, hoping to find something more about this place which the writer spoke of so malevolently. She came across many different topics such as the history of the mysterious Seluitah tribe, the hierarchy of the Spirits, various passages concerning potions and healing draughts, and something about the gates to a place called Valhalla. Lyda paused for a moment when she came across a strange drawing on one page that looked like a snake winding around in a circle to clutch its tail in its mouth, above which was a barely-legible word that she could only pronounce as,

“Jessica, you’re our dawn, our heart. This truth—it’s yours to define. We’re with you, always.” The hollowness pulsed, and the loom flared, weaving a vision of the nexus’s truth: a cosmos of love, their bond eternal, but fragile, held by Jessica’s hollowness—a void that could heal or shatter all. Then it shifted, showing a nexus broken, her companions fading, the fracture’s weavers reborn, their wrath consuming eternity. The first twist came: Verith wasn’t a weaver—she was the nexus’s heart, not Jessica’s, a fragment of its creation seeking to merge with her or destroy her. The chamber trembled, and the tapestry tore, the fracture surging—Sereth, Verath, Vorath, Sylvara, Caleth, Elyra, Aethr

Theresa was old enough to have experience, but looked young enough to please Salem’s eyes—two key requirements for a housekeeper in his home. “Where is Salem now?” I asked. A good feeding would soothe my nerves. “He’s not at home, my lady. I couldn’t tell you.” Grumbling, I headed to Salem’s library. Perhaps he had a book I could entertain myself with. Once there, I found a book lying open on a desk. It was titled Mythic Bloodlines: Lost & Fabled Lilitu. Curious, I studied an illustration on the open page. It depicted a trio of strange-looking women, just like the ones Salem had been painting all this time. The accompanying text stated: